


Snowballing

by Frayach



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Come Swallowing, Domination, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Season/Series 01, Snowballing, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 04:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3474239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frayach/pseuds/Frayach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><img/> </p><p>Brian teaches Justin the art of snowballing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowballing

**Author's Note:**

> Brian claims to have taught Justin everything Justin knows. Alas, we are left to merely imagine the details. This is a story in the [Everything He Knows](http://archiveofourown.org/works/880530) collection of stand-alone stories. The gorgeous banner was made by Urugwaj.

It’s cold out, but not so cold that it’s going to snow, so I’m perplexed when Brian starts talking about “snowballing.” Does it involve rubbing an ice cube on one’s balls? – We’ve already done the ice cube thing, though, and Brian spent much more time playing with my nipples than any other part of me. Maybe “snowballing” has something to do with Snow Cones. You know, those paper cones full of crushed ice soaked with sugary syrup? I used to love them. The only problem was that sometimes the syrup ran out before the ice did, which sucks because . . . oh, yeah, right. Brian is probably not talking about a frozen summer treat.

He’s got an eyebrow arched and an impish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, which means that whatever “snowballing” is, it’s bound to be nasty, nasty _nasty_. I’ve seen that look before. He’s got something planned that he knows will gross me out before it turns me on. Hhhhmmmmm. What’s it going to be? I feel like a kid on Christmas morning who’s just discovered a mound of shiny presents under the tree.

I can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s pleased with me and my sense of adventure and curiosity. I can tell it’s one of the things he likes about me and one of the reasons he keeps inviting me over. Unsurprisingly, he has a very dirty mind filled to the brim with dirty thoughts, and I am his eager pupil.

He’s sitting on one of the dining table chairs with his legs spread wide. All he’s wearing is a worn pair of jeans, and I don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know he’s probably going commando. As I watch, mesmerized, he opens his fly and slips his hand inside. He’s touching himself; well, not like that’s anything new – he’s _always_ touching himself when he’s not having me do it – but it seems so deliberate, so calculated to make me start drooling like the neighbor’s Great Dane.

Ah, so whatever “snowballing” is, it involves cock sucking. Well, okay then – let’s get to it!

I pull my long-sleeve tee off, getting momently stuck with one arm out and my nose caught on the collar. Shit. I haven’t yet perfected the art of removing my shirt in the same sexy way that he does. He laughs, but it’s not mocking. He must’ve been smoking weed before I got here because he’s pretty mellow tonight. I like him this way. He’s less intimidating. 

He stands up and points at the chair.

“Take off your jeans and sit down,” he says.

Yay!!! Yay!! He’s going to suck me off! Jackpot! Yay!! I love it when he sucks me off! He’s so porn-star about it – slurping and sucking and moaning so loudly that it’s possible the people who live downstairs can hear him. Score!! I’m tempted to do a victory lap around the loft but figure that might be taking things a bit too far.

“Ah, very enthusiastic,” he says when I kick off my underwear so energetically that they end up in the fruit bowl on top of the kitchen island. “I like that. Now c’mere. Plop your ass down and scooch up to the edge of the seat.”

 _Scooch_. It’s one of those words he uses now and then that makes me think he’s not as badass as he seems. I’m pretty sure Marlon Brando never used the word “scooch.”

As soon as I’m “scooched” up on the edge of the chair, butt naked and ready to go, he insinuates himself between my legs and kneels down with sexy, languid grace, eye-fucking me the entire time. Christ on a Ritz cracker; he is so fucking gorgeous! No wonder my sheets at Deb’s are like cardboard – I can’t stop jerking off over memories of moments like this.

He sits back on his heels and looks up at me, a smile playing on that beautiful mouth.

“I’m going to snowball you,” he says. “And then you’ll have the privilege of returning the favor.”

“Uhm,” I say, acutely aware of the fact my dick keeps twitching like it’s got a mind of its own – which, come to think of it, it probably does. That would explain _a lot_. “I still don’t know what ‘snowballing’ is.”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll demonstrate. Pay close attention because when you do it to me, I want you to do it right.”

No pressure or anything.

He traces the underside of my cock with a slow, wet, warm lick, watching me the whole time, his eyes laughing at me – he knows I can come like this. I’m that pathetic. 

“Brian,” I plead in a whisper. He’s going to play with me; he’s going to make me absolutely crazy; he’s going to keep me on the brink and hold me there, taking pleasure in my discomfort. In other words, he’s a sadistic bastard, and I’m going to love every minute of it.

But to my surprise, he doesn’t tease me. After just on lick, he swallows my dick so suddenly and unexpectedly that I actually yelp with surprise. Then, before I can get my bearings and gather my wits, he is sucking and swallowing, one hand holding the base of my dick and the other cupping my balls and rolling them between his fingers.

What the fuck? I’m going last, like, thirty seconds, and he knows it. Damn him! It’s like being given one of those stupid Easter bunnies that’s hollow on the inside. There you are thinking it’s solid chocolate, but then no. It’s fucking hollow, and you feel totally gypped. 

Well, fuck. This blowjob is going to be a hollow chocolate Easter bunny.

I come so fast that I don’t even realize I’m about to come before it’s already over. I want to cry. What a waste!

He sits back on his heels and looks at me. I’m waiting for him to say something shitty, but he doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t say anything at all. He merely stands up and walks behind the chair.

“Uhm, Bri . . . ?”

But I don’t get the question out because the next thing I know, he’s tugging on my hair and pulling my head back. Ah, this must be part of the whole “snowballing” thing. He’s silent, which is weird. Usually when he’s teaching me something new, he’s lecturing like a Sex 101 professor. But not now.

He’s above me looking down into my face and then lowers his head, positioning it to the side for just the right angle for a mind blowing kiss . . . I open my mouth . . .

. . . and then I get it. He kisses me and come fills my mouth. My come. He swirls it around with his tongue, preventing me from either swallowing or spitting. My first thought is UGH! I don’t want my own come in my mouth! But then my perspective shifts . . . this isn’t about me. This is about him. He gets to suck me off and then feed me my own come. It’s . . . it’s really kind of . . . disturbing. It’s an act of domination. First I’m going to force you to come, and then I’m going to force you to swallow it . . .

. . . Finally, he pulls away, and I’m finally free to spit or swallow. I decide to swallow. I’m pretty sure spitting out a “snowball” is not proper sexual etiquette. He lets go of my hair so I can lift my head.

“That,” he says when he comes around to stand in front of me. “Is ‘snowballing.’”

“Uhm,” I say. “I . . . I’m not sure I get the appeal. It’s kind of disgusting.”

He bites back a gleeful smile as though he knew what I was going to say before I said it.

“Ah,” he says. “But here’s the thing . . . now you get to do it to _me_.”

And that’s when it hits me. Holy shit! I’m going to be sucking the come out of him and then forcing him to swallow it.

My bones go kind of noodly, and I’m glad I’m sitting down. Oh my fucking God in heaven!

He grins at me as he watches the coin drop. “Still think it’s disgusting?” he asks. “Here, stand up and let’s switch places.”

I can’t _believe_ he’s actually going to let me do this. It seems so . . . so unlike him. It almost seems like I’ll be topping him in a way. There’s a shift in power involved that I never would’ve thought he’d be okay with.

He gives me a hand and helps me up. I watch him push his jeans off and kick them aside. He then sits down and spreads his legs.

“An important part of snowballing is making the person who’s getting snowballed come as quickly as possible,” he says. “You’re quite good for a novice, but not good enough to get a pro like me off as quickly as you need to, so here’s what I want you to do. First, kneel down between my legs.”

Okay, I think. I’ve got that part. Nothing new there.

“Now, you’re not going to swallow when I shoot because obviously that fucks up the whole thing. I can deep-throat and still stop myself from swallowing, but you won’t be able to. Not a criticism, just a fact. So, here’s what you need to do – just suck on the head of my cock, just the head, no more – while I make myself come.”

I look at him quizzically.

He holds up his hand, and that’s when I see that he’s holding something that looks like a short rod with a red button on one end. A thin cord is attached to the rod and to something between his legs on the other.

“Electro-stym,” he says as though I know what the hell that means. “I’ll teach you all about it later, but let’s stick to one lesson tonight.”

I eye the whole thing warily. It looks unsafe.

“I’ve got something up my ass with the unimaginative name of an ‘anal probe,’” he says. “When I press this button, I get a nice vibrating pulse – it’s a pulse, not a shock – right against my prostate. Between you sucking on the head of my cock and this baby . . .” he holds up the rod with the button “. . . I’m going to come my fucking brains out in a nanosecond. Whereupon, you’re going to hold my come in your mouth and do to me exactly what I did to you as quickly as possible – it’s all about the shock value. Got it?”

“I think so,” I say. “I’ll try.”

“There is no ‘try,’ only ‘do,’” he says in his Yoda voice because he really is a geek no matter how much he protests to the contrary.

“Alright, enough talking,” he says. “Get your mouth doing something more useful.”

I close my mouth around the head of his dick and start sucking. It always surprises me how hot it is, all that blood so close to the surface of his skin.

“Suck like you’re going to suck all my come right out of my balls,” he says. “Think straw.”

Why is that analogy so fucking sexy?

I follow his directions and suddenly feel his body jolt, which is followed closely by the taste of pre-come. He groans, and I feel his body jolt again, just a quick, sharp upward thrust of his hips. The next thing I know his come is flooding my mouth.

“Quickly!” he gasps.

I stand up as fast as possible and move around to the back of the chair. Now what? Right. I take a fist full of his hair and yank his head back. I can’t believe he’s letting me be so forceful with him!

“Hurry up,” he commands.

I position myself so I can kiss him as deeply and thoroughly as possible, and when I do I spit the mouthful of come into his mouth. He moans and kisses me back, his back arching away from the back of the chair. There’s still some come in my mouth, so I force it into his with my tongue . . .

As Deb would say – Jesus fucking Christ! There’s no way he can escape. He’s completely at my mercy as I force feed him his own come! The come I’d just sucked out of him! God, it’s so fucking hot! I suddenly feel slightly faint and only belatedly realize it’s not because I’m going to die from the hotness, it’s because I can’t breathe. I pull my mouth away from his, and watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“Okay,” he gasps. “You can let go of my hair any day now.”

Oh, right. Forgot about that.

I open my fist and help him lift his head like he’d done for me. His face is red, but he’s grinning.

“Can I assume you enjoyed that?” he says. He must see the stunned, God-struck look on my face. “Sometimes it’s not about what the other person does to you, it’s about what you do to them that turns you on. Speaking of which,” he nods at my dick. “You look like you would appreciate a proper blowjob.”

No truer words were ever spoken. But what about . . . ?

“Are you going to unplug yourself?” I ask.

He cracks up. “I’ve never heard it put quite like that, but yeah. I’ll bite your cock off if I press the button by accident.”

I shudder. Now _that_ was a very unsexy thought.

I watch as he pulls the probe out of his ass. Duh! Of course, I do! I’m surprised by how thin it is – it’s a wand, not a plug.

“Can I try it?” I ask eagerly. But he shakes his head. 

“Later,” he says. “Tonight it’s all about the snowballing. One thing at a time.”

All about the snowballing, I think. Is he implying that we’ll do it again because if so, I’m _all over_ that with ketchup, mustard and relish. We’ve done some hot things, but he’s never let me be rough with him before. He’s never let himself be dominated. Does he let his tricks do that to him? For some reason, I doubt it. It’s impossible to imagine.

So, am I the first one??? If so, then _holy fucking shit_!

He’s just about to go down on me, but he pauses as though he’s read my mind and looks up at my face, into my eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. His eyes say everything I need to know . . .

_I trusted you, Justin. I’ve never trusted anyone else enough before._


End file.
